


Mommy Dearest

by chanderson



Series: Young, Scrappy, and Hungry [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: “My mother just died.” He looks up at Alex and blinks rapidly. “I have to go home to Virginia.”George's mother dies, and his presidential campaign has to make an unexpected campaign stop.





	

**Author's Note:**

> George is 35 and Alex is 25. I like the idea of George being the youngest president elected, so I went with it. Enjoy!

“I’m getting so tired of Jefferson’s people playing the age card. Who fucking cares if George is only 35? He’s still more competent than half the people in Washington,” Gilbert Lafayette mutters, angrily stabbing at his laptop trackpad as he closes the tab he had open. 

“They do it because there’s nothing else to attack George on,” Alex says with a shrug, grinning impishly. “He’s just that good.”

“I know,” Lafayette says with an exaggerated groan. “I have to drag my ass to the Sunday morning shows to say the same old shit over and over again. I’m going to start sending Aaron in my place. Isn’t it his job to handle press relations? I don’t think the chief of staff should have to deal with this crap.” 

“Journalists hate Aaron because he won’t commit to saying anything of substance,” Alex says absently, his attention now on the dark, velvet sky racing by outside the plane window. He’s always loved flying.

“That’s the point, Ham,” Lafayette laughs. Alex shrugs and drums his fingers on the table situated at the back of the plane. 

They’re the only ones in the back, a single light illuminating the wide table. Everyone else is either asleep or reading quietly in their seats. Some members of the press corps are writing their stories, furiously typing on their laptops. George is probably working in the front of the plane. 

“Where are we headed again?” Alex asks. “Everything’s starting to run together at this point.” Lafayette laughs and shuts his laptop with a click.

“I think maybe somewhere in Florida?” Lafayette shrugs and stretches his arms above his head.

Alex groans. He hates Florida. It reminds him of Nevis—memories he’s tried hard to forget. The salt in the air makes him feel like a boy again, waiting for the father he barely knew. The thick, muggy heat is a reminder of the weeks spent huddled on the ground with his mother, slick with sweat and his own vomit. 

“Perfect. My favorite.” 

As the captain starts making his announcements, Alex and Lafayette make their way to their seats up front and buckle in before the plane bounces down on the runway. 

George is asleep and the landing jolts him awake. Their eyes meet briefly and George’s tired face melts into a smile that makes Alex want to hold him and never let go. 

\---

“Alex, sweetheart, please come to bed.” George is curled up in the bed, struggling to keep his eyes open. “It’s late and we have to be up early tomorrow. You know Angelica hates it when anyone is late in the morning. That includes me.” 

“I just have to finish up this one passage so you can look it over and edit it tomorrow,” Alex says with an air of impatience, fingers flying over his well-worn keyboard as he talks. “It’s gonna take me literally five minutes if you would stop bothering me.” George groans and pulls the blanket up over his head.

“You can finish the speech in the morning,” George practically whines, flipping the blanket back off of his face. In any other situation Alex would tease him for being whiney, but he’s too focused on his work to bother. 

“Just go to sleep without me,” Alex snaps. “I’ve got to write this speech for the prayer breakfast and then we have to starting working on your acceptance and concession speeches. That’s a big fucking deal.” Alex pauses momentarily to roll his neck, enjoying the satisfying series of cracks.

“Fine,” George mutters, reaching to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. The room is plunged into darkness, just barely illuminated by the blue glow of Alex’s laptop. 

“Thank you.” Alex hunkers down and continues to work, ignoring the slight pain in his fingers. 

Before he knows it, the time is 5 a.m. and his head is pounding from exhaustion. He barely manages to drag himself into the bed, settling in and wrapping his arms around George’s waist. Sometimes Alex likes to be the big spoon, and he knows it makes George feel safe, a feeling he would never admit to needing. 

Alex’s eyes immediately close as he’s lulled to sleep by George’s even breathing. 

\---

When the alarm on George’s phone starts to ring Alex literally wants to scream and throw it at the wall. George stirs beside him, reaching blindly for the phone. When he finally manages to turn off the shrill ringing, he curls back up. Alex still has one arm slung over George’s waist, resting on his stomach. 

“I’m so not in the mood to do this today,” George says, his voice thick with sleep. Alex snorts and nods even though George can’t see him. 

“Tell me about it.” He squeezes George’s waist and rubs his stomach gently, tracing little circles. George makes a happy sighing noise. 

“We should probably get up, you know,” George says. Alex grunts and nuzzles the back of his neck. 

“Yeah probably.” Alex’s eyes are burning and his head aches with a sharp pain that feels like he’s slowly being stabbed over and over again.

“I’m gonna shower. You coming?” George sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His muscles ripple under his smooth skin as he reaches up and stretches, rolling out the cricks in his neck. 

“Yeah sure; that sounds good.” 

When they make it downstairs, careful to leave at separate times so they don’t arrive together, Alex heads straight for the coffee, sucking down two cups as fast as he can. 

His eyes are still burning and everything is a little blurry, slightly out of focus. He took some Advil, but his head still hurts. The coffee sloshes in his stomach and he swallows down a surge of nausea. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Alex inwardly groans as Aaron Burr walks up, looking annoyingly impeccable in his ironed dress shirt and freshly pleated pants. 

“Kinda.” Alex shrugs and busies himself with filling up a to-go cup with coffee. 

“You look kind of dead, man.” 

“Thanks Aaron,” Alex says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Some of us have actual work to do, you know? We can’t all go around charming reporters. By the way, tell Theodosia hi for me. She’s with WaPo right? That’s quite a pull, dude. Congrats.” Alex pats Aaron on the shoulder before turning on his heel and walking off, catching a glimpse of Aaron’s incredulous face as he leaves. 

Alex is on his way out the door when Angelica Schuyler, deputy campaign manager, stops him with a firm hand on his forearm. 

“Alex, how many times have I told you to be nice to Aaron?” she asks, her voice sweet with a threatening undertone. She arches one of her perfect eyebrows and purses her lipstick-red lips. Alex rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not my fault that he’s such a prick.” Alex shrugs Angelica’s hand off of his arm. “Better hurry up, Boss. We’ll be late.” Alex smirks and kisses Angelica on the cheek.

He takes the bus’ steps two at a time and collapses down on one of the couches lining the wall. He lets his eyes fall closed and sighs. 

“Alex?” Alex blinks and looks up to see George looming above him, his thick eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah?” Alex rubs his eyes and sits up a little straighter. “Do you need something, Governor?” 

“Oh, no. I just, are you okay?” George sits down on the couch next to him, leaving a respectable amount of space between them. 

“Just tired.” Alex shrugs and gives George his most convincing smile. “Don’t worry about me, Governor.” George looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods and stands. 

“Thank you, Alex.” The formality makes Alex’s heart ache. 

He idly watches George make his way to his usual seat at the back of the bus and smiles fondly when George laughs at something Angelica says. The couch dips as someone settles down next to him and Alex turns his head to see Lafayette arching an eyebrow at him. 

“George is like my brother, you know,” he says cryptically. Alex swallows and nods, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah. Close family friends, I know.” 

“He’s had a lot of pain and sadness in his life. He’s a military man, but underneath it he is fragile and sensitive. He hides it well—knows how to stay calm and collected. It’s going to make him an amazing president.” Alex nods in agreement, struggling to meet Lafayette’s hard gaze.

“He doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve heard most of what’s happened to him—his brother and wife and all that.” 

“George sunk into a deep depression when his wife died. Adrienne and I were very worried about him. He moved in with us for a while. Being around Geo cheered him up; he didn’t feel as lonely in a house full of people.”

“Look, Laf,” Alex says uncomfortably. “I’ve got work to do. We can sit around and psychoanalyze George later. As long as he’s mentally stable enough to be president, I don’t see why any of this is important.” Alex tries to shrug Lafayette’s comments off, impatiently pulling his computer out of his bag. 

“Be careful with him.” Lafayette’s voice is low and threatening. “He needs someone strong and caring to be there for him. He craves order and likes when things make sense. Do not fuck him over, Alex.” 

“Laf, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m a little offended that you’d suggest I’m involved with George. He’s my boss,” Alex hisses, struggling to keep his voice down. “This is ridiculous and you’re wasting my time. I need to write George’s election night speeches.” Alex’s whole body is tense, pulled taught like the E string on a violin. 

“I’ve seen you go in his room at night,” Lafayette says evenly. The blood drains from Alex’s face and he turns, jabbing a finger into Lafayette’s chest. 

“Look, whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong. I was just trying to bounce some ideas off of him. Jesus, Laf. He’s 10 years older than me and, like I said, my _boss_.” Alex’s voice somehow stays at whisper volume. 

“Whatever.” Lafayette holds his hands up in mock surrender and shrugs. “Whatever you say, Alex. Just remember, he can’t afford to be fucked over by someone else. He needs someone who will be there for him.” 

“Can you just leave me alone please?” Alex snaps. He angrily pulls his laptop open. “If you would excuse me, I’ve got actual work to do. It seems like no one on this fucking campaign staff realizes that.” Lafayette shrugs and gets up, gliding toward the back of the bus, infuriatingly suave in his tailored navy suit. 

\---

People clap as George leaves the stage, giving one last wave and smile. He mouths the words ‘thank you’ before heading into the wings. His senior staff immediately swarms him. 

“Governor, Lafayette and I think you should take some questions from reporters. Jefferson’s goons have really started to double down on the whole age thing,” Burr says quickly as they walk briskly toward the airplane hanger’s exit.

“You need to pull a Kennedy,” Lafayette says, picking up where Aaron left off. “Address the age issue head on and put it to rest.”

“Like JFK did with the Catholic issue,” Aaron offers as a quick explanation of the reference. George waves his hand and nods. 

“Yes, thank you Aaron. I studied history in college.” Alex grins as Aaron presses his lips into a thin line. 

“Of course, Governor. Sorry,” he says quietly. Alex has to resist the urge to cackle. 

“Are the press already on the plane?” George asks, accepting a rag that Angelica hands him. He uses it to mop the sweat off of his face. He then trades the rag for a cold bottle of water. 

“They’re waiting outside on the tarmac. We thought it would be easier out there, more organized,” Lafayette says.

“You’re only going to take one question from Jim Acosta, the CNN correspondent. He’s going to ask you about the age comments,” Burr says as he holds the door open. George nods, andeveryone files out. 

The press corps is assembled in an orderly semicircle, cameras set up in the back. They swing toward them as George strides over. 

“Hello everyone, George says pleasantly, smiling. I understand you’ve got some questions?” Everyone laughs quietly, nearly drowned out by the rapid-fire camera snaps. “Alright, lets get started.” The reporters immediately start shouting questions. George points at Jim and smiles. “You’re up Jim.” 

“Thank you Governor Washington.” He clears his throat. “Senator Jefferson has been hitting you hard on your, quote ‘youth and inexperience.’ How do you respond to that allegation?” 

“Well, Jim, as an Iraq War vet, former lawyer with the Children’s Defense Fund, and the youngest Governor in Virginia’s history, I’d say that I’m more than qualified. I’m going to be the youngest president ever elected, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be a good president. In fact, I’d say I’m probably going to be better than a lot of those old, white guys who have been president before me,” George says with a smirk. “I guess that Senator Jefferson just doesn’t have anything else to attack me on, which says something about the kind of person I am. You have to choose between Senator Jefferson, who has a horrible legislative record marred by the intervention of special interest groups and lobbyists, and me. I’m young, yeah, but I’m also accomplished, honest, and ready to work for the _American people—_ not a bunch of fat cat lobbyists.” Alex grins as George shrugs and smiles cheekily. “Thank you. See you all in Ohio.” 

George turns and boards the plane, the senior staff hurrying up after him. 

“Governor that was perfect,” Angelica says as soon as they pile onto the plane. Lafayette claps him on the back, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. 

“Well?” George turns to Alex and smiles, his eyes twinkling. Alex nods. 

“Great job, Governor.” They share a look, and George’s hand twitches forward to just barely brush against Alex’s fingers. 

“Thank you Alex.” 

Alex nods and makes his way to the back of the plane, settling in at the table beside Angelica. Aaron and Lafayette are on the other side, both scrolling on their phones.

“Twitter’s responding well,” Lafayette says before setting his phone down. 

“I’ve already got two offers to be interviewed about it. Jake Tapper is asking for tomorrow and, sweet Jesus, Bill O’Reilly wants me to call in tonight. Fuck that.” 

“You should do it,” Alex says, rubbing his tired eyes. “We can’t freeze out Fox just because they’re a conservative network. Go on there and appeal to that demographic. It can’t hurt. Don’t let O’Reilly get to you. Just play it cool and stay in control of the interview.” Aaron huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“Why don’t you do it, Mr. Media Strategy?” Aaron mutters. Alex shrugs and can’t keep the smirk off of his face. 

“Sorry Burr. Not my department.” Alex gets up and stretches, content to go and try to nap in his seat up front. 

He make his way up the aisle as the engine starts up, the loud vibrating sending a bolt of pain straight to his aching head. He groans under his breath and rubs at his forehead. 

George is in the seat opposite Alex’s and Alex touches his shoulder in greeting, but immediately freezes, looking down at George in confusion. 

George is staring blankly at his phone, and Alex can feel him trembling under the hand he has on his shoulder.

“Governor?” he says slowly, glancing around. George doesn’t answer him, just sits there shaking. “George?” Alex tries again, gently squeezing his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” 

“My mother just died.” He looks up at Alex and blinks rapidly. “I have to go home to Virginia.” 

Alex is quiet for a second before his brain kicks into action. “Okay, okay,” he says quickly, kneeling down. “I’ll go tell Lafayette. We’re already on the way to Ohio, so we’ll spend the night there. Then, we’ll get up tomorrow morning and fly to Virginia. It’s all going to be okay, George.” Alex is talking rapidly, formulating the plan in his head as he speaks, but he tries to keep his tone soothing. 

“We have to announce something to the press, formally suspend the campaign for the next few days.”

“I know. We’ll take care of all of that. Aaron will write up a press release; Lafayette will get the travel all situated; Angelica will get to work on campaign logistics.” Alex squeezes George’s hand and he squeezes back, clinging to Alex like a life line. 

“Thank you Alex.” 

“I’m here for you,” Alex whispers. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Alex musters up his best smile and tries to keep his tone even, because his brain is telling him to get the hell out of there—fight or flight has kicked in and Alex’s body has chosen flight—but he forces himself to stay there kneeling next to George, whispering gentle encouragements.

By the time the plane lands in Ohio, Alex has informed everyone of the situation and they’ve been working non-stop to get everything situated. Alex even calls George’s sister and asks about funeral arrangements, offers to help in any way he can. He’s something of an old hat at funerals, though he doesn’t share that particular information with her. 

They have a few events lined up for today, but they quickly get in touch with surrogates and get them to fill in. John Adams takes a speech at Ohio State. Poor kids, Alex thinks. They’ll be so disappointed when literally the most boring guy one earth shows up to speak to them, but George is very obviously not in the best mental space to go around campaigning. He’s barely said more than a few words to anyone, and he spends the entire plane ride staring forlornly out the window.

When they get to the hotel, Alex goes to George’s room as soon as he can. Part of him hates George’s mother for dying. Now he has to deal with George’s emotional breakdown, and Alex doesn’t know if he can handle that. He’s never been good with emotions and watching other people cry makes him uncomfortable, but he knows that George needs him. Plus, he’s not going to be the dick who doesn’t comfort his boyfriend—or whatever George is—in a time of need, so Alex darts out of his room and practically runs down the hall to George’s door. 

Alex uses the key he made sure to grab and finds George lying on the bed fully clothed, staring unblinkingly at the wall. 

“Hey George,” he says cautiously, walking slowly over to the bed. “You okay?” 

“I’m just tired.” George sits up and looks at Alex, his eyes void of their usual twinkle. He’s only 35, but he looks about 10 years older. Alex doesn’t say anything, just squats down next to George and gives him a gentle smile.

“Me too. Let’s get some sleep, okay?” 

It’s only 9:45, but Alex is so exhausted that it’s making him nauseous and the sharp pain in his head is only getting worse. 

They both get undressed and get into bed. George is lying curled up on his side, and Alex takes the hint. He climbs in and wraps his arms around George, scooting as close to him as possible. George takes a deep, shuddering breath and Alex squeezes him in a hug. He slowly rubs George’s stomach and falls asleep to the even in-and-out of George’s breathing. 

\---

The funeral home smells musty and the green carpet is squishy under Alex’s feet. Secret Service men guard the front door, and guests have to be cleared before they can enter. A long line stretches outside as people wait to shuffle through the make-shift security check. People’s bags are searched, and they wait impatiently as the Secret Service wave their security wands up and down.

Alex watches all of this from his spot near the wall in the lobby. George is wandering around greeting family members, a forced smile planted on his face as he makes idle chitchat. 

The senior staff is all there, and they stand huddled together. Aaron, forever the charming favorite son, is talking to an older woman—presumably one of Mary Washington’s friends. He gives her a bright smile and she seems to swoon, laughing at whatever stupid comment Aaron made. Alex rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, turning to Angelica. 

“Aaron always manages to find someone to dazzle with his bullshit,” Alex mutters. Angelica gives him a disapproving glare, but a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. 

“He’s just trying to be friendly. This can’t be easy for these people, and now they’re being forced to have big men with guns pat them down like they’re in some airport security imitation.” Angelica shrugs. “This whole situation kinda sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs, his attention now on George. He’s talking to a woman who is obviously his sister, and she pulls him into a tight hug. Two twin tears race themselves down the contours of George’s face, dangling on his chin before landing on his lapels. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and hugs his sister again. 

Alex can’t resist walking over to him anymore, so he grabs a few kleenex out of a box sitting on a side table and makes his way over to George, who is now standing alone in the middle of the room looking lost and overwhelmed. 

“Hey,” Alex says softly, bumping George’s arm with his shoulder. “Looks like you can use these.” He hands George the tissues and smiles. “You okay? We can always make a run for it now,” Alex tries to joke. George only manages a weak smile as he dabs at his eyes. 

“I hate this, Alex. All of these people are going on and on about what a great woman my mother was. It makes me feel sick. They didn’t really know her like I did. I don’t think she ever loved me.” George has to stop as another tear falls, and Alex aches for him, wishes he could reach up and wipe the tear away. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he says firmly. “I do know. After Lawrence died she changed. I think a part of her died with him that day, and I reminded her of him. I was like a worse version of him, and she resented me for it— _hated_ me because Lawrence was the one who got sick and died instead of me. I honestly think, if given the choice, she would’ve traded his life for mine.” George sniffs and rubs angrily at his eyes. 

“Oh George,” Alex says softly. Alex pulls George into a hug, needing to touch him. “I love you,” Alex whispers into his chest. “And if your mom was still alive, I’d tell her to go fuck herself.” George laughs and pulls out of the hug, clapping a hand over his mouth. 

“I probably shouldn’t laugh at my mother’s funeral. Word gets around. Soon Jefferson will be attacking me on the fact that I’m crass and have no respect for the deceased.” George gives Alex a goofy smile, and Alex feels a swell of pride for putting that smile there. 

“He’s probably got a spy planted in here right now.” Alex scans the room and finds an old woman wearing a large hat with peacock feathers sticking out of the back and grins. “See that old lady in the ugly hat?” Alex motions with his eyes, and George glances, his eyes widening.

“Yikes.”

“Right? She’s the spy for sure. I’d keep an eye on her.” Alex grins as George laughs again. 

“You’re the worst.” 

“Governor, I think everyone is starting to go into the chapel.” Lafayette walks up and purposefully wedges himself between George and Alex, sending Alex stumbling backward a couple of steps. Alex rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Oh, right. Thanks Gilbert.” George pats him on the shoulder and gives Alex a tight smile, his face growing grim again. Lafayette shoots Alex a withering look before he takes off after George, and Alex follows slowly, wishing again that he could just turn around and leave and not come back. He hates funerals, and he hates seeing George so upset even more. 

When Alex enters the chapel, the first thing he sees is the open coffin at the front of the large room. He’s hit with an anxious wave of heat and his stomach drops. He’s never quite understood why people have open coffins; he sure as hell doesn’t want anyone looking at him after he’s dead. 

Alex watches George walk up to the coffin and loom over it as he looks down at his mother. He starts to reach into the coffin, but hesitates, his hand suspended in mid-air. After a couple of seconds, his hand drops limply back to his side.

Alex makes his way slowly up the aisle, hesitating near his front row seat next to George’s. When George turns away from the coffin he immediately finds Alex’s eyes. His face is wet with tears and Alex can see his shoulders starting to shake. Alex motions toward the door with his head and raises his eyebrows. George gives him a tiny nod and follows after him as Alex leaves the chapel, pushing past the people still straggling in. The lobby is nearly empty aside from the Secret Service stationed by the door. 

Alex hurries into the bathroom, thankful that it’s a private, individual stall. George walks in soon after and collapses against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor. He pulls his legs to his chest and rests his head on his knees. 

“We’re going to be late. People will talk,” he says thickly. 

“Who cares?” Alex kneels next to George and cups his cheek, rubbing away some of the tears rolling down George’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.” George laughs hysterically and chokes off into a quiet sob. “I’m an orphan.” The disbelief and anguish in George’s voice is enough to choke Alex up, and he has to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Hey, George, it’s gonna be oka—” 

“My sister is the only person left who knew me as a child,” George says frantically, cutting Alex off. “If she dies I’ll be the only one left.” George covers his mouth with his hand and tries to stifle his sob. Alex sniffs and rubs at his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, George.” 

“I have to win this election, Alex. I have to prove my mother wrong—prove that I’m actually worth something, that I can succeed.” George takes a deep breath and looks at Alex, and it’s the most vulnerable Alex has ever seen him. “Do you think I’ll make a good president?” he asks softly. Alex huffs out a laugh, smiling fondly.

“You’re going to be an amazing president, George.” 

“You really think that? You’re not just saying that because I’m sitting on the floor crying like a fucking baby?” George asks wryly, rubbing his eyes. 

“No, of course not. I don’t flatter people just for the hell of it. You know that.” Alex sits next to George and kisses his shoulder. 

“I know. I guess I’m just worried that I’ll disappoint my mother, which is ridiculous since she’s dead.” George sniffs and wipes his face when more tears start to fall. “God I’m a mess. I’m not, I don’t feel sad. I don’t know what I feel,” he says frustratedly.

“It’s okay to feel confused,” George,” Alex says softly. “Lots of people feel confused after their parents die.”

“Well I can’t afford to be one of them,” George snaps, obviously angry with himself. “I can’t stop fucking crying and I have to go eulogize my mother in like 5 minutes. I can’t stand up in front of all of these people and start sobbing.”

“There’s no press here. If you do no one will care. And honestly, if the press did find out, it would probably humanize you a lot. People can relate to this kind of stuff.”

“I hate that my whole life has become a media strategy,” George mutters. He stands up and Alex stands with him. 

“Here, lets get you cleaned up.” Alex wets a paper towel with cold water and gently wipes George’s face. George steels his shoulders and takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. I’ve fought in a war; I think I can handle eulogizing my mother. I just have to read the words on the page,” George mutters more to himself than to Alex. 

“Exactly,” Alex says anyway, patting George’s shoulder. “You’re about to be the president of the United States. You can do pretty much anything.”

George suddenly pulls Alex into a crushing hug and kisses him hard, nipping at his bottom lip. Alex’s back hits the door with a thud and he finds himself pinned under George’s weight. Alex makes a surprised noise and reflexively pushes at George’s chest. He immediately steps back and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, it’s okay baby. You just surprised me,” Alex says softly. “Come here.” Alex wraps his hand around George’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. It’s gentler than the first one, and Alex squeezes the soft skin at back of George’s neck, kneading the skin in the way he knows George finds soothing. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” George kisses him one more time, a chaste, closed-mouth kiss at the corner of Alex’s mouth. 

Then George rolls his shoulders back and strides into the chapel, head held high. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love a sweet, emo George. Someone needs to stop me. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
